


Follow You

by CometEclipse



Series: Idril Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Desk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9460703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CometEclipse/pseuds/CometEclipse
Summary: Idril Lavellan is at the Winter Palace when a horrible thought occurs to her: After all the things she has done, wouldn't Cullen rather be with a different kind of woman?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my friend im-not-great-at-making-up-names's win for my 600 followers giveaway. It was fun to continue Idril's story! And I'm almost to my next giveaway number, if you would like to try for my next set of prizes! Over on my tumblr: [ cometeclipsewriting ](https://cometeclipsewriting.tumblr.com)!

“Announcing the betrothal of Count Aanmar and Lady Magdalena Levesque!”

The carefully neutral and booming voice of the announcer echoed grandly about the ballroom. Idril had stopped moving when the normally chatting occupants had fallen silent, trying to look as if she hadn’t been making her way anywhere in particular. She was annoyed at their forced stop, but she would draw too much attention if she kept going. After hearing the reason for the quiet, her emotions were… complicated.

This was the third betrothal announcement of the night. Apparently the cream of Orlesian Society considered the Winter Palace the place to flaunt such a connection, pleased to show off to the people around them. Or so Idril supposed; it was hard to know what the expressions were beneath the masks. For the first couple, the man had worn a toothy grin, but the woman’s mouth was pressed into a pinched line. The second couple had both appeared bored, aping either the fashion of ennui that was so prevalent in this baffling court, or accurately showing their complete disinterest in each other. This couple… the woman had a smug, gloating smirk, and the man was expressionless.

Did no one marry for love here? She just barely prevented herself from shaking her head; it would be a bad idea to be seen making some sort of comment on the betrothal. Josephine had taught her better than that. With no mask of her own, she had to be careful.

So she pasted on a politely disinterested look, clapping lightly as the couple took their bows to Empress Celene. They were handsome together, the woman golden to the man’s black. With their wealth sparkling on their outfits and at their necklines, their apparent influence, and presumed good looks, they were obviously meant to be together. They belonged with each other.

She licked her lips and looked across the sunken dance floor to where Cullen was surrounded by a small throng. When people saw her and Cullen together… did they fit? Their relationship was not exactly hidden, but supposedly no one outside the Inquisition knew. Would they baffle everyone here if their secret was revealed?

She and Cullen were still so new. A faint blush rose in her cheeks when she recalled the first time they had come together, their continued relationship slowly building from there. Their first time on his desk had changed to others, up in his loft, or stealthily sneaking to her room in the tower. She cared for him, deeply, but she still had troubles expressing herself. And she still worried that they would be able to last.

Men and women flocked around him now, flirting with the handsome man. And he was excessively handsome tonight, with the bright red and gold of the Inquisition uniform showing him to advantage. In comparison she looked like an outsider trying to blend in, the elf servant playing dress up at the Ball. Although they wore matching uniforms, she would look out of place next to him.

Cullen’s eyes were locked onto the couple, his expression closed, but she had learned to read him. He was troubled, and she thought she detected… yearning. Idril’s stomach dropped, tightened unbearably. Is that what he wanted? An elegant, urbane, Orlesian lady that could stand cool and proud next to him in a crowd like this? To be betrothed and at the center of attention?

Idril’s nails bit into her palm, her stomach twisting as worries plagued her. But then… no, she let out a long sigh. No, these people were not what Cullen wanted, nor the attention. He hated The Game, disliked the politics and power plays. Beautiful these women might be, but she only had to think of his reactions in the War Room to remember that Cullen did not play games. How he was with the people at Skyhold, a strong and constant presence that didn’t show off. 

The betrothal dance ended, another round of light applause signaling the return to normal conversation and behavior. Idril took in a deep breath, carefully edging her way to go to the stairs. There were things she needed to do still; the Empress was still in danger.

Before she left the room, she glanced back at the colorful cluster that Cullen stood in the middle of. Another Orlesian lady was trying to coax him out to the dance floor. Even across the room, his emphatic ‘No’ was apparent, his crossed arms and clenched jaw giving weight to his words. The people around him tittered, delighted with him no matter what he did.

Idril turned and headed up the stairs, letting out a huge sigh. She shouldn’t forget that at heart, Cullen was a man with uncomplicated desires. He had grown up a farmer, then a soldier, and gone through so much. Too much. When this was all over, he probably wanted a simple, peaceful life, probably on a farm once more where he could relax and be happy.

A sudden, horrible thought occurred to her, making her miss her step and stumble on the stairs. “Inquisitor?” Cassandra placed a hand on her back, a gentle question in her tone.

Idril shook her head and continued upwards, trying to bury the rolling of her stomach and the way her heart was pounding. “It’s nothing,” she said, lying. She felt like her heart had suffered a major blow.

Cullen probably wanted a woman like that, didn’t he? A good, honest country girl who adored family and knew farming. Someone who was bright and honest and hadn’t had to kill hundreds with her own hands, who had as many shadows as he did. And as much as she would like to be that woman for Cullen, that just wasn’t Idril.

She cleared her throat, exhausted and anxious. But she kept going upwards, hiding her emotions, because that’s what Idril the Inquisitor did.

***

Idril pressed into the railing, pushing against the knotted muscles in her shoulders. Staring sightlessly at the cool marble, she shuddered out a breath. Orlais would not descend into chaos; it was done. With more blood on her hands. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about the Dark Future happening this way, but she knew she wouldn’t get a moment to rest.

Heaviness weighed on her shoulders, and added to it all, she couldn’t stop seeing Cullen turning from her to kiss another woman. Idril clenched her teeth, her thoughts terrible as she kept extoling virtues to this imaginary farm girl. She would be beautiful, and not shy. Able to easily converse with anyone and set them at ease. She would be a wonderful cook, who knew all there was to know about growing gardens and fields and taking care of livestock. That woman’s life would have been filled with quiet goodness, a balm to Cullen. The woman would never have killed. A light for him.

So caught in her thoughts, it was a surprise when heavy footsteps broke through her reverie. She turned to see Cullen, a gentle smile on his face, and he came to her side, leaning against the rail to look at her face. “I worried about you tonight,” he said quietly. His eyes narrowed in concern, studying how wane she appeared. “What is wrong?”

For a moment, she almost told him, but her shyness held her back. This was still so new, the two of them as a couple. How could she speak about their future when they weren’t guaranteed it in the first place? And wouldn’t it come off as clingy or possessive? So she swallowed it and pasted a small smile to her lips. “I’m just exhausted. Between playing the Game and stopping a civil war, I just want to relax.”

She hadn’t fooled him. She could see the questions still in his eyes, but he let her take the easy way out. For a moment they stood in the heavily scented breeze, enjoying the moonlight glazing the garden below. The soft strains of the orchestra filtered out through the open doors, a lovely, slow song.

Cullen pushed away from the railing and held a hand out to her. “Dance with me,” he said, his lips slightly curled, bowing in elegant offer.

Idril instantly slipped her hand into his, and stepped into his body. She needed his arms around her, but this was about the best she could get currently. Josephine had given them strict instructions not to give away the nature of their relationship… but surely a dance wouldn’t be enough to raise gossip.

For a while, they didn’t speak, just letting the music and the calmness of the night sooth their stress. Cullen held her so softly, so tenderly; Idril couldn’t help but feel a small spark of hope. Several times she opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it again; what would she say?

“Idril,” Cullen’s low voice washed over her, his eyes were hard to make out in the moonlight but were trained on her face. “Please tell me what the matter is. Maybe I can help.”

She shivered, holding tighter to his hand. Perhaps… it would be okay to ask him? Yet she couldn’t directly. She took a deep breath and rushed out, “What do you want to do after? I mean, after the Inquisition has finished its job, what would you want to do?” Not quite her worry, but a part of it.

Cullen blinked, then looked thoughtful. “I hadn’t thought much about it, truthfully.” They swayed back and forth, scarcely moving in the dance steps anymore. “Go visit my family, I suppose. It has been far too long since I have seen them.” He laughed, “Maybe spend some time doing some honest farming. After leading an army, it would be bliss! I think I will need some peace and quiet after all this.” His amusement made his lips widen, his eyes crinkle attractively.

“A simple life,” Idril breathed.

Cullen nodded, his smile turning wry. “A simple life sounds like heaven.”

To her utter horror, Idril felt tears slip down her cheeks, a sob catch in her throat. “Idril?” Cullen gasped, shocked at her sudden turn in mood. She couldn’t respond, only clench her eyes shut to try to suppress her agony. “Idril, what’s the matter?” He sounded frantic, but she only shook her head miserably.

Abruptly Cullen wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her away from the doors to the ballroom, heading down some side stairs. She didn’t notice where they were going, doing all she could to hold herself together. Finally Cullen shut them in darkness, a flicker of light from a candle flaring to show a storage area.

Then Cullen was back, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close and tenderly. “Shh, my darling. Shh. Won’t you tell me what is wrong?”

“You-you want a simple life,” she sniffed, trying to get ahold of herself. “And you will want someone who will fit that life. An honest country girl, and that’s just not me.”

Cullen tilted her face up, his thumbs brushing at her cheeks, along her vallaslin. Through watery lashes she could see his face; a tender smile mixed with exasperation and a hint of amusement. “Who said I wanted a woman like that?”

That made Idril blink a few times. “You don’t?” Her voice was thick, confused.

Cullen shook his head, still staring into her eyes. “No, I don’t. I prefer women who have fought to get where they are. Who have battled against hardship and adversity, yet who are still empathetic to those who need care. One who is beautiful and strong.”

Idril felt another tear slip out, and she shook her head, whispering, “I’m not strong. Look at me; I’m a mess.”

Immediately Cullen pulled her tight against her chest, hugging her hard. “Of course you are strong.” He kissed her forehead, then rested his own against hers. “You were tired before we got here, weeks out saving people. Then add to that all the stress of stopping an assassination and the frustration of the Game, it would be a trial to anyone. And yet, despite it all, you charmed them, showed them the power of the Inquisition, and you saved Orlais.” He kissed her lightly, and she felt a small bubble rise in her deflated spirits. “Everyone has bad days, but only the truly strong keep going. And from the first day I met you, Idril, you kept going. You forged ahead, blazing a path of hope and direction for everyone around you. I said I would follow you forever, and I meant it.”

Dazed Idril just clung to him for a while, absorbing what he had said to her, vowed to her. “That’s what you think of me?”

His kiss was a little longer, the coaxing movement causing her to respond a little this time. “Yes. That is how I see you; how the Inquisition sees you. Never forget, they pledged to this cause because of you.” A wicked little grin pulled at the line of his scar, “I see a bit _more_ of you than everyone else though.”

It took her a second for the double entendre to register, and she blushed, but felt herself chuckle. “Cullen!” She looped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder, letting him hold her as she relaxed. “When… when you go to see your family, will you be away very long? I will miss you.”

“Who says I would be going alone?” That made her lean back to look up into his face. “You would come with me.” Abruptly he blushed and looked away, stuttering, “That is… if you would like to. I… I would like to introduce you to them.”

Idril threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him deeply. “I would love to,” she whispered against his lips, her tongue tasting the curve of his lovely smile. She thought maybe he said ‘good’ but it was muffled into her mouth, his tongue twining with hers. Heat shimmered in the air, the kiss becoming one of teeth catching, tongues gliding, breaths mingling. With a shaky thought, Idril sent a burst of magic to the door, locking it.

“We shouldn’t,” she panted, her hands not pausing for a moment as they slipped the buttons of his jacket from their holes.

“I know.” Cullen didn’t stop either.

Since they were wearing the same uniform, it was quick work to divest themselves and each other of the Inquisition’s garments. The air was cold in the little room, causing her nipples to peak, but Idril didn’t notice. The fire inside was hot, just as Cullen was. Naked, Cullen gripped the backs of her thighs, lifting her to his chest. Idril moaned as she settled against him, semi-hard cock against her core. She ground against him, not paying attention as he took them somewhere.

Cool wood against her bottom made her gasp and look down. Cullen had seated her on a small end table, the only thing in here with a flat surface. She chuckled and arched, her breasts brushing against his chest. “How do we always seem to end up on tables?” Cullen grinned and shook his head. They made love on an uncommon amount of them.

Against his shoulder, Idril found the faint silver of a scar, leaning forward to kiss it. The scar her hart had bestowed upon him, the wound that had led them to finally act on their feelings for each other. It was a good luck charm, in a way.

Cullen cupped her breasts, plumping her curves and pinching her nipples. She jolted, feeling heat lick down to her core. They couldn’t be long, she knew, her mouth twisting in frustration. It wasn’t like back at Skyhold, where they could sneak into each other’s rooms for the night. More’s the pity. Idril slid an arm around Cullen’s neck, pulling his head down to hers. She flicked her tongue with his, tracing his lips, nipping at the stubble of his jaw. Her other hand skated down his stomach, grazing through the short hairs that started beneath his belly button, and wrapped a hand around his member.

She slowly pumped up and down, helping him to harden. She could feel him heat up in her hand, the friction causing Cullen to groan. He captured her mouth, sucked on her tongue and pinched her nipples hard. A burst of pleasure bloomed from her chest, sank down to her core. She twisted on the table, wet and ready, but knew that Cullen needed more work still.

She pumped her hand to the top of Cullen’s cock, running her thumb across the sensitive head, caresses that made him gasp. Then she brought her fist down with a firm twist, a move she knew he liked. Cullen’s moan made his chest expand and contract, his fingers dig into her skin. Idril grinned, repeating the motions again and again. On the third one, she felt a bead well, and smeared across the top of him. Cullen felt it too, and dropped a hand down to her curls. He brushed through her wetness, flicking calloused fingers over her pearl, merciless for several passes. She gasped and arched into his hand and chest, not letting up on pumping his cock.

Cullen slid one finger inside her, two, his rhythm matching hers. Soon their pants and sounds filled the small room, the scent of their arousal adding another level of eroticism. Idril gasped at a particularly deep thrust, and pulled her hand from around his neck to grip the wrist of the fingers playing against her clit. “Now,” she groaned, and Cullen moved his hand around to her butt, scooting her forward on the table. Idril savored the feel of his pulse jumping against her hand, and positioned his hardness against her core.

Cullen slid in, a punch of breath shaky as she accepted his length. Idril would have never guessed that she could enjoy this as much as she did, but Cullen was an amazing lover, taking her to heights and ecstasy she had never known existed before him.

Cullen’s breath fell ragged against her body, his thrusts becoming faster and faster, striving for their peak. He knew their time was short as well; he brought his hand to the bundle of nerves at the top of her cleft, rubbing each time his hips withdrew. Idril clenched her teeth, throwing her head back, trying to not make too much noise. The little table squeaked softly with each of Cullen’s thrusts, becoming louder as he delivered particularly deep ones. She gasped each time, her nails digging into his skin in possessive pleasure.

Cullen stiffened, a noise breaking from his throat, rough and muffled. Idril felt his heartbeat inside her for a moment before he started to come. He dropped his mouth against her shoulder, muffling the sounds of his orgasm into her skin, his hips pounding into her. He angled her and held her still, hips frantic and cock pulsing, dragging deliciously. She shivered, straining into him.

Cullen rubbed at her pearl, and it was just the last bit she needed. She stiffened, a hand over her mouth to hold back her noises. Heat overtook her, sending lights of magic racing through her body, clenching tight around Cullen’s cock, milking the pleasure for several eternal waves. She was seared, both mind and body, rinsing out all the negativity and replacing it with bliss.

She collapsed boneless against Cullen, her head dropping to his chest. Little aftershocks raced through them, involuntary shivers. Idril realized she couldn’t keep her eyes open for more than a moment, so exhausted she could have fallen asleep exactly as they were.

With a groaning sigh, Cullen pulled away from her, a comfortable silence filling the air as he gently completed the ritual of cleaning her up. Soft touches along the vallaslin of her cheeks, brushing her hair behind a pointed ear, smoothing his hands along her back. They dressed in the quiet, Idril stumbling and Cullen helping her to get into her trousers. He buttoned her jacket while she nodded off standing up. He kissed her lingeringly, affectionately, whispering, “It is a shame I can’t hold you tonight, but you need to sleep. Let’s get you to bed.”

She drowsily nodded, forcing her eyes open. With a sleepy smile she accepted Cullen’s arm, and they slowly started back through the gardens and up to the balcony. A servant pointed them in a discrete stairwell to the upper levels that housed the suites they were assigned to.

Solid and warm, Cullen kept them moving, kept anyone from stopping them. He halted at her door, bowing low over her hand and kissing the back properly. She saw the regret in his eyes, the depths of his feelings. “Sleep well, Inquisitor. We will speak tomorrow.” She smiled softly and nodded, slipping inside.

She stripped clumsily, leaving a wake of discarded clothes to the bed. Crawling between the crisp, clean sheets, Idril remembered Cullen’s words, how he saw her. He would follow her anywhere; he wanted her to meet his family. He had banished her anxiety, her fear and worry.

She fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, a smile on her lips.


End file.
